The Second Stage

The Monster

A pothole jarred her car, rattling the anesthesia machine in the trunk. Meredith's heart skipped a beat, and she lowered the rear windows, just in the off-chance that a leak sprung in the vaporizer. The single-story suburban ranch homes, with lawns seemingly cut with a ruler and barber's scissors, raced by. Every building and turn seemed familiar but alien as if her mind tried to reject any connection to it. Above her, the sun squatted on the horizon, spilling orange light over everything, soon to be joined by the streetlights. Ahead of her, perched between a yellow split-level and an eggshell blue home with maroon shutters, was the house she was looking for: the monster's lair. She recognized it, having spent many afternoons parked outside it, considering her next move. She rolled to a stop beside it.

The home, a countryside wart growing from the foot of the town, differed from the others in its upkeep. Gray paint cracked around the door frame like chapped lips. The porch lay in shambles. A broken railing sloped outward from the house and a broken plank interrupted the three-step stairway to the broken screen of the broken home. The overall color, once a pale yellow, had taken on the grays and greens of decay, such that it took the appearance of foamy bile as the street lamps illuminated.

Meredith scanned the windows and found the living room light to be the only one glowing. Colors flickered on the ceiling within, suggesting a television spattering images from the road-side wall. Somewhere, from at least several blocks away, a dog howled; aside from that, not a single sound disturbed suburbia. Her own shifting jostled the contents of her purse and she checked it for the eighth time since stopping at her apartment. Atop everything rested her telescopic baton and a taser gun she had kept by her bedside after moving out on her own. Buried deeper, the syringe of ketamine and midazolam still waited, screwed to a 16-gauge needle. This would hurt. She couldn't bear to take that from him.

Cracking the car door open, her heart leaped at the door ajar alarm; she reflexively slammed it shut. Her eyes darted, scanning for any officers or concerned neighbors. None to be found. Meredith sighed, kept her car running, and stepped onto the sidewalk. She stared at the house, now appreciating the shadow of an armchair rocking back and forth in the living room.

The cement scratched at her bare feet as she shifted her weight into each step, inching toward the front door. The brick walkway sank at uneven angles into the ground Meredith slunk to the front door and rummaged through the stones by the front step. Sure enough, she found the hollowed out rock with the spare key tucked within. She scoffed.

Nearly a decade ago, she used this same rock to sneak into the same home. The result was a restraining order. His actions ensured that she could never see her child again, and she got a restraining order. The justice system never worked by common sense, but as she was to prove tonight, justice can still be found outside the system.

She slid the key into place and with several firm attempts, she twisted it to the unlocked position. The hollow metal-framed door swung open, and much to Meredith's relief, did so without the faintest squeak.

The canned laughter of a sitcom greeted her from a hallway as she sidestepped inside and gingerly closed the door. Across the entryway, stained carpet trailed into the shadows of another short passage. To the left, darkness enveloped the kitchen, save for the streetlights glinting off a set of knives on the counter. Meredith gradually increased the lighting to a dim glow. White painted cabinets supported and overhung marbled laminate counters extending around in a U-shape. In the center, a small, movable island held two empty boxes of pizza rolls. To the right, the hallway to the rest of the house ended in a half-shut door—the source of the television's driveling.

The only decorum came as a series of mahogany picture frames lining the walls of the long hallway. Meredith peeked at them then averted her eyes. That this man could take her only family from her, and keep one for himself, twisted her soul. Soft footsteps echoed.